


maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you

by wreckofherheart



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Falling in love with Angie is home.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>As she has always been.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Home. Peggy’s.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you

I.

          Falling in love with Angie is sweet biscuits and bitter coffee. 

 

          The chill of Winter, rushing to the automat with freezing hands, and cold feet. Snow melts on Peggy’s jacket as she nestles her coffee to her chest, and her smile is thankful, chapped and quivering. Angie leans across the bar, a glint in her eye.

 

          ‘For someone who acts all tough ’n’ mighty, you sure know how to act like a fragile _feather_ in the cold.’

 

 

 

 

 

II.

          Falling in love with Angie is discomforting and rocky. 

 

          Peggy finds the silences puzzling; she doesn’t understand why Angie suddenly refuses to talk to her, what she might have possibly done wrong to upset the girl. Angie’s anger is a quiet storm. Hurried winds around Peggy’s head, wrapping her up whole in its fury. 

 

          She only wants to get close.

 

          Only wants Peggy closer.

 

          ‘I thought I’d tell you about my day.’ 

 

          A wall is pushed, and the bricks crumble, and, somehow, it’s a lot less painful than Peggy imagined. 

 

 

 

 

 

III.

          Falling in love with Angie is knocks at midnight. 

 

          Sneaking around The Griffith to fetch some warm milk; acting like sixteen-year-olds. Laughing and giggling and messing around, only the way idiots do.

 

          Locked in her chains for years, it took Peggy longer than it should to realise it is Angie who possesses the key to her freedom.

 

          It’s better than any freedom she’s ever tasted.

 

          They act like the youths they never were.

 

 

 

 

 

IV.

          Falling in love with Angie is a blow.

 

          The loss of breath.

 

          Sweaty palms.

 

          Frenzied sleep.

 

          The roll and toss in her covers. A bewildered, delirious smile. 

 

_Joy_.

 

          Her pretty, pretty eyes remedying the wounds he left behind. A fresh start, new beginning; something great. 

 

          The enthusiasm for everything, even the grimmest of ordeals. The excitement whenever Peggy steps into the room. The way she embraces her, throwing her  body at her as if nothing else mattered except Peggy. The short, grumpy pouts when things don’t go quite right. The generosity, the constant invitations, the playful nudges every morning at breakfast. The unbreakable loyalty.

 

          The lack of spirit. The crush of self-esteem when she is rejected once again by her favourite theatres. The dream slowly diminishing with each light step of her feet. But she still stands, still wears her tattered crown; heavy is the head. The promise to do better, that she can do better, that she will do better––give the gal time.

 

          The hold she has on Peggy’s hand when Broadway lights disappear.

 

          And suddenly Angie is everything.

 

 

 

 

 

V.

          Falling in love with Angie is sinister.

 

          She’s next, she’s next, oh, God have mercy, she is _next_. And when the Gods tear her from Peggy, Peggy will have nothing left, for she will truly fall to her knees and never get back up again. 

 

          How can Peggy live without her girl’s smile? How can Peggy live without her girl’s warm embraces? How can Peggy live without her girl’s pep-talks, the advice she speaks so passionately yet is incapable of following herself? How can Peggy dream without her dream breathing beside her?

 

_I can’t lose you, too, my darling._

 

 

 

 

 

VI.

          Falling in love with Angie is tears and golden secrets.

 

          Peggy has always been brilliant at hiding her identity. Peggy has always been brilliant at lying. Peggy has always been brilliant at lurking in the shadows, forgotten and stricken from the world. 

 

          Angie sees right through her.

 

          She doesn’t even _try_.

 

          So when Peggy turns around, and lies between her teeth about her career, why she sneaks off every night, why her life is in such disarray, Angie nods and accepts her words. Not before she locks herself in her room and cries. And she doesn’t necessarily cry about the lies, about the deceit, about Peggy’s cunning manipulation.

 

          She cries because Peggy doesn’t have a choice.

 

          Oh, how that kills her. 

 

          Peggy is forced to live in misery.

 

          And there is no hero left to save her.

 

 

 

 

 

VII.

          Falling in love with Angie is forgiveness and sighs of relief.

 

          She welcomes her back into her life without a moment’s hesitation. A generosity Peggy is alien to. Never in her days has _anybody_ welcomed her back with open arms, a tight smile and a longing in her beautiful blues. She really starts to think if Angie is an angel, who has tragically plummeted into her path. 

 

          And Peggy decides, over time––gradually––she’ll tell her. She’ll tell her everything, right from the very day she was assigned to the war effort. Merely a child.

 

          She will tell her.

 

          One day.

 

 

 

 

 

VIII.

          Falling in love with Angie is silent glances, and knowing smiles.

 

          They only look at each other to express paragraphs and paragraphs of information, confessions, words and more. 

 

          Glances across the room. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Too close for Peggy to catch her breath.

 

          It’s something Peggy truly adores.

 

 

 

 

 

IX.

          Falling in love with Angie is food on the table when she gets home.

 

          Hot, delicious food which is fit for a King. One evening, she asks why Angie puts in all the effort, why bother––why serve Peggy food when Angie has a job of her own to maintain? Why sacrifice her time for her?

 

          Really, the answer is very simple.

 

          But, instead, Angie says, ‘’Cos I care about you, English!’ As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

          Maybe it is.

 

 

 

 

 

X.

          Falling in love with Angie is nights by the fire, reading her favourite novels, and feet up on the settee. 

 

          Those nights when Angie saunters into the living room, dressed in her gown, two mugs of hot coco in hand. Those nights when Peggy feels her safest, her most secure, her happiest. Those nights when Angie watches her from where she sits, tosses her own book aside and snuggles up to where Peggy lies.

 

          Those nights when they fall asleep together, wrapped up in their embrace and shielded from the cold.

 

 

 

 

 

XI.

          Falling in love with Angie is giggles and pillow fights. 

 

          Running around like maniacs in their mansion. The shriek and laughter from Angie when she succeeds in an audition, the late evenings staying up together, going through lines, before breaking character and acting like fools again.

 

 

 

 

 

XII.

          Falling in love with Angie is the calm after the storm. 

 

          The nursing of Peggy’s wounds, no questions asked, and the shoulder to lean on when the threat of a pistol is too much to bear. Her haven. The only place of security, where cruel men and evil creatures cannot reach them. 

 

          The tissue when she cries a little.

 

          And the quiet whispers, coos and caresses while Peggy cools from her trauma. 

 

          Falling in love with Angie is healing.

 

 

 

 

 

XIV.

          Falling in love with Angie is soft kisses. 

 

          Those at nights, limbs tangled, pressed together, gasping for breath. Those in the morning, hair in her eyes, cheeks flushed, and grumpy before her morning tea. Those kisses before work, where Angie lingers a little, clutching Peggy’s collar, knowing, knowing, knowing she may not come back home this time. And those kisses when Peggy _does_ return, as always, soft and sweet.

 

          Devoted.

 

 

 

 

 

XV.

          Falling in love with Angie is home.

 

          As she has always been.

 

          Home. Peggy’s.

 

 

 

 

 

XVI.

          Falling in love with Angie is all Peggy knows.

 

          Deep, fierce and warm.

 

          The ring wrapped around her fourth finger, twinkling in the moonlight; their own, forbidden secrets. Theirs to keep. 

 

 

 

 

 

XVII.

          Falling in love with Angie is when there is nothing left to say. 

 

          When all is said and done, and they only have each other.

 

          Final words that escape her so easily; flow between her lips. Shared between them in candlelight.

 

_As familiar as breathing._

 

          ‘I do.’


End file.
